Series 2 Episode 1 the catch up
by Ms Trillbatin
Summary: what happens immediatley after the last episode of season 1? WARNING SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE SERIES 1


Supernatural –a fanfic

What happened next…

Episode 1 of series 2

Dean was the first to come round, he groaned as he felt the pain hit him,

"Sammy…" he mumbled, his eyes still shut. He had no idea what had happened. He felt so weak, so tired, he just wanted to slip back into deep sleep, but he couldn't, there had been no answer from his brother, he needed to see if he was okay. There was a niggling doubt in Dean's mind. He felt like something was terribly wrong, like he had forgotten something really important, something was really, really wrong. Slowly he cracked an eye open and the carnage he was met with sent his heart racing. They were in his impala, which had been totally smashed in, luckily Dean had been sitting on the left side, and the other side was the one that had been hit…the truck was still there but there was no one in it. Dean glanced into the front seat, there were two figures…_Sammy_…_Dad_…he thought. They were both unconscious and Sam was in the passenger seat. Dean could see the blood slowly dripping from his head.

"Oh god, Sammy…" Dean muttered and he began struggling to get up, at the noise, John Winchester stirred. Suddenly his head flicked up, and he took a great gulp of air. He looked to be the least hurt, though Dean knew he'd be in considerable pain as Sam had been forced to shoot him in the leg. Their father looked round the car quickly, he glanced at Dean,

"You okay, son?" Dean ignored his question,

"Dad, check on Sam!" John Winchester raised a shaky hand and checked his youngest son's pulse, pausing for a moment as Dean held his breath,

"He's alive Dean, but his pulse is weak. We need to get him out and to a hospital." Dean knew it was serious, he could see that, but hearing his Dad order them to a hospital which he avoided at all costs, brought it all home. Dean forced himself up, and opened the car door; it creaked as if it too was in pain. Dean ignored it; he could grieve for his car when he knew he wouldn't be grieving for his little brother. He hobbled to his dad's door and helped him out, clutching his chest from the pain and helping his Dad limp on his good leg. Dean glanced towards the truck to make sure the demon was definitely gone. No movement, that was good…wait…

"Oh shit…Dad…" Dean said staring at the underneath of the truck,

"What, Dean…wha-" Then he saw it too, the truck had been steadily pouring gasoline onto the road,

"Dad, get off the road!" Dean shouted pushing his immobilised Dad so that he stumbled back onto the grass verge,

"Dean! Get your brother!" John shouted, but Dean was already running round to Sam's side of the car, the pain of his chest injuries forgotten in his adrenaline and panic rush. As quickly as he could he yanked open the battered door of the impala, letting it slam against the trucks radiator, and he gasped, Sam was bleeding heavily from massive abrasions down his side,

"Jesus, Sammy…" Dean choked, as he tried to undo the seat belt, his fingers slipping on the blood in his hurry. He grabbed Sam under his arms and began yanking him, and his little brother groaned,

"De..Dean?" came his quiet voice. Dean pulled him bodily from the car and tried to half drag, half carry him, one of his arms slung over Dean's shoulder.

"When did you get so heavy little brother?" Dean asked,

"Dean…the truck…"

"I know, I know!" Dean cried, trying to move his brother.

"I…" Sam failed to get his sentence out, and Dean glanced at him, concern evident on his face,

"Sam? Sammy, stay awake!" Dean cried,

"Can't…" was all Sam could get out before his head lolled forewords and Dean was dragging deadweight. Gasping for air, Dean pulled his unconscious brother as fast as he could but the truck would explode any second and they weren't far enough away. Suddenly out of no where another hand shot out and lifted Sam from the other side.

"Dad…" Dean struggled, "Your leg…"

"It'll…heal…" he gasped out. Just as they got clear of the truck, there was a mighty bang and roiling flames flew from the truck,

"Get down!" Dean shouted, though unnecessarily, as they had all been thrown down by the blast round the other side of the impala. Gasping, as the truck burned and crackled, the three lay on the floor, trying to gather up the energy to move. The police would turn up in a few hours, they needed to be far enough away, but they had to make sure Sam was ok first. Dean rolled over onto his front and slowly pushed himself up. His wounds weren't bleeding anymore, and he was slowly waking up. His dad was alright, apart from the bullet in his leg, of course, and Sam? Dean glanced down at his little brother. His chest was barely moving and even then it was slow and irregular. John Winchester propped himself up against the Impala's wheel, breathing heavily.

"Dean, check your brother…" He ordered. Dean bent down checked Sam's pulse. Very slow, very weak. He pulled up Sam's shirt and shut his eyes gently as he took in his wounds. A heavy deep gash ran down his side and then across his stomach. Dean thought he could see muscles and even organs. Abruptly he turned away and staggered over to the verge, leaning against a tree he vomited the few contents from his stomach. Shakily he wiped his mouth, then turned to see his father watching him, tears glistening on his scarred cheeks. Dean walked back over to his father and slumped down next to him. Neither said anything, but Dean cried. He hadn't cried since he was 12 and he'd seen Sam get attacked by a pissed off spirit. Now he was crying, once again for his brother, his little brother who was dying.

"Dean…don't." Their Dad ordered, but the tears wouldn't stop coming, "Don't give up on him, don't you dare!" John Winchester cried. Dean ran a hand through is hair,

"He's dying Dad, he's bleeding to death and most of his organs have been smashed to jelly, he's barely breathing, we have no idea where the fuck we are or where the nearest house is, let alone the nearest hospital!" Dean was suddenly knocked heavily to the ground as his dad smashed a fist into the side of his face. Dean landed sprawled on the floor inches from Sam's face. He looked his brother over, watched him breathe raggedly. Eventually he sat up again.

"You will not speak like that about your brother, do you understand me?" John Winchester asked in a deadly voice.

"Yes sir." Dean answered immediately, trying to still his shaking hands. Sam groaned into the night air, and Dean jumped to his side. Slowly the young mans eyes blinked open,

"Dean?" he rasped,

"I'm here, little brother, so's Dad. Hold on, okay, we're gonna get you to a hospital." Sam chuckled though it turned into a painful cough and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth,

"You know as well as I do, there's no…hospital for miles round here, and even if…there…was, how would we get there in time?" Dean's eyes welled up as his little brother calmly acknowledged what he could not. Sam was dying, and time was rapidly running out. John Winchester crawled to his other side. Tears now dripping from his chin too,

"Dad…I'm sorry…I gave…you…loads of grief…and I'm s-"

"Sammy…don't" gasped John through his sobs, "None of it matters, it doesn't matter any more!" He cried stroking his son's face. Sam raised a hand a little way off the floor,

"Dean…" he gasped. His brother immediately grabbed his hand in his, holding it tightly as though it was an anchor to him in a situation that threatened to spin out of his control, out of his comprehension, "Dean…thank you…I…" Sam's breath hitched and slowly his hand lost it's strength, slowly it slipped from dean's grasp and hit the floor, his eyes closed,

"No! Sammy! NO! Come back! I can't do this without you! I won't!" he cried.

"Dean…I don't think he's…" John Winchester sobbed. He slowly checked Sam's pulse, "He's still alive, Dean, but I don't think it'll be…he'll be gone soon..." Dean cried, wailing like a little boy.

"Dad we gotta do something, we have to!" John Winchester didn't say anything. He was staring into the distance, "DAD!" Dean shouted, panic rising, "We've gotta-" but John raised his hand and pointed up the road, silencing his oldest son. Dean spun round, panic surging for a moment, if it was the demon, they'd all die. But instead Dean saw two pin pricks of light. Car headlights. Dean sighed as relief rushed through him, and left him slightly dizzy. He jumped up, though, as his panic returned, he had to get them to stop, and even then, would they be able to reach a hospital in time? Dean ignored these niggling worries, there was a chance, a chance to save his brother from dying and he'd grab it with both hands. He jumped up and ran into the middle of the road, standing in front of the still burning truck. Hopefully the driver would be able to see him silhouetted against the fire. As the car approached, a blue pick up truck, it slowed down and then stopped a few yards from Dean, who saw a white-haired man get out. Dean jogged over to him, aware of the fact that the man had a shotgun in his hand.

"You okay, son?" the man asked, frowning as he glanced at the truck burning out behind Dean, "Were you in that thing?" Dean shook his head,

"No it crashed into our car, drivers gone, some jackass. My brother, and my dad, they need to get to a hospital, can you give us a lift?" Dean tried to calm his panicked heart,

"Yeah, I'll help you, sonny, there's a hospital just about ten miles back that way," He said, putting his gun in the cabin and jerking his head back the way he had come, "Show me where your family is." The older man said. Dean felt tears welling up in relief, and he ran back to where his brother lay bleeding onto the road and his Dad sat trying to stop the hitches in his breathing that Dean could hear from where he was.

"I can't tell you what it means to me that you're willing to help my boys and me." John Winchester said to the man as he hobbled to the pick up and got in the back, as he watched the old man and Dean carry Sammy and put him in the back with his Dad.

"Well if a fellow American won't help you out, then who will?" John tried to smile but it just wouldn't come, not when he was cradling his dying son in his arms, "Please hurry," was all he said in return.

Dean jumped awake. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep. There was so much he could have missed while he was conked out in the waiting room. Any number of Doctors and Nurses working on his Dad or brother could have been chatting nearby. He'd been in the waiting room for a good few hours now. He'd been patched up pretty quick when he arrived. He'd given a fake credit card and names and then they cleaned his wounds, bandaged him up and gave him some pain killers. They'd tried to make him stay on a ward but naturally he'd refused, he wanted to be there when his brother and father came out of the operating theatre. His Dad had been first out. He had clasped Dean's arm, told him he was fine then ordered him to stay and watch out for Sammy. Then he'd been wheeled up to a ward, his leg in bandages, still wearing his ripped and bloodied shirt and jeans, as he had refused to put a gown on. And here Dean had sat, waiting and waiting, drinking endless coffee's to keep him awake, although that last one obviously hadn't had much of an effect. Even the cute nurses couldn't draw his attention. Every time the damn lift opened he practically jumped up, praying it was Sam, hoping they'd fixed him up, that he'd be back to his old self. But each time it was some Doctor or an old man being walked back from the café with a nurse. Dean ran his hands through his scruffy hair. What was he supposed to do? He wanted to go and see his Dad, wanted to hear him say that they'd all be ok, but even John Winchester couldn't solve this. This wasn't something you could solve with a bottle of holy water and a gun with rock salt in it. He couldn't help feeling guilty, Sam was his responsibility. He shouldn't be, he should have been his Dad's responsibility, but that's not how it was. Heck, Sam shouldn't even be anyone's responsibility! He was 21 for God's sake, he could take care of himself, and better than most guys his age. But then, most guy's his age didn't have to deal with mother-fucking demons trying to hunt his ass down and waste him, right?

"Mr. Bryant?" Dean ignored the voice; he just wanted to know about Sam Winchester. "Mr. Bryant, I'm your brother Sam's surgeon." Suddenly Dean jumped up, to come face to face with a short man wearing surgical scrubs. Dean noticed he had blood all down them.

"Is Sam…?"

"There were a lot of problems in the operating room, and-" Dean blanked out the rest of the man's words, '_there were a lot of problems in the operating room'_ If Sam was dead…Dean felt the blood drain from his face…he tuned back in to what the doctor was saying, he had to know everything.

"…he's resting now; he won't come round for at least an hour or so. I'll take you up to see him." Dean let out an explosive breath and grinned stupidly, he clapped a hand on the surgeon's shoulder and leaned on him heavily, chuckling,

"You have no idea how happy you've just made me…" Dean grinned,

"I think I have a fair idea," the surgeon smiled, "Let me take you to see him." Dean followed the surgeon through corridors and up stairs until the man pushed open a private ward door and Dean saw his brother lying prone in a hospital bed, tubes spilling from his mouth and nose, a machine beeping regularly beside him. For a moment Dean stood in the doorway, shocked at the alien way his brother looked, not the regular Sam but one who was barely alive, strange and unwelcoming.

"You should sit with him." The surgeon suggested, "It often helps a patient's recovery to have someone they love talking to them." Dean nodded and the surgeon turned to go,

"Wait…uh, could you tell my Dad, John Bryant, that Sam's awake, and get him to come up and see us?" the surgeon smiled and nodded, then closed the door behind him as he moved out into the corridor. Dean dragged a high backed hospital chair nearer to Sam's bed, and slumped down in it, his chin on the palms of his hands, leaning on his elbows on the side of the bed. He just watched his brother. He would make that demon pay. It had so much to account for, their mom, killing Sammy's girlfriend, and now this? What it wasn't enough that it had fucked Sam's life up majorly, now it had to kill him to? Dean shook his head, it wouldn't come to that. Sam was gonna get better, the surgeon said.

"Come on Sam, wake up, damn it!" Dean ground out, "You can't leave me here, not with Dad, who's gonna stand up to him, if you're not here? Huh?"

"Well, thanks Dean…" the oldest son, twisted in his seat to see his Dad being wheeled in on a chair by a nurse, she smiled at Dean and he grinned back, though his hearty wasn't in it. She let the door shut and John Winchester rolled himself round to the other side of Sam's bed.

"Dad. You okay?" he asked,

"I'm fine, how's your brother?" They both looked down at Sam, scars across his bare chest, along with massive padding and wadding on his right side. Dean had refused to let them put him in a gown, so they had simply cut the shirt off him.

"The surgeon said he should be okay." Dean moved his hand and gripped Sam's prone, cold one, "Come on Sammy, wake up…" he muttered to himself.

"Dean…DEAN!" came the insistent voice. Dean suddenly sat up, his neck ached like crazy, he'd been sleeping on the edge of Sam's bed, bridging the gap between the chair he was sitting on and the mattress. His Dad was staring at him from opposite, and Dean realised why. His brother was stirring from unconsciousness. Slowly he opened his eyes, squinting. Dean let go of his hand immediately. No chick flick moments.

"Where the hell am I?" Sam muttered groggily.

"You're in hospital, Sammy." His Dad replied, "But you're gonna be fine."

"Dean?" he croaked,

"Right here, buddy." Dean said standing up so that his little brother could see him without moving his head.

"The demon?" he asked, it sent an emotion through Dean that his brother was just out the way of Death's door and he was only after one thing. Revenge. He realised it was pity he was feeling for Sam. Pity that he couldn't be 'Joe College'. Not any more. Dean opened his mouth to answer, but their Dad got their first.

"Gone. Until the next time it decides to take a helpless child." Dean could detect the hint of anger in his Dad's voice, anger that was directed at Sam. He couldn't believe it and he near enough had to restrain himself from slamming his own Dad against the wall.

"I couldn't do it, Dad." Sam choked, "You think I can kill you? You think I could do that? This whole thing has been about that demon being responsible for mom's death, and you want me to let it be responsible for you? You want me to be responsible for you!" He cried, Dean looked nervously at the bleeping machine, it was bleeping faster and Dean realised his brother's heart rate was rising.

"Sam, you need to calm down…" Dean said, but his brother ignored him.

"I can't kill you Dad, I'm sorry! I failed you! I know I did, but can't expect me to kill you, any less than you'd be able to kill me or Dean! I-" Suddenly his breath hitched as his heart rate rocketed, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, and his gasped for breath,

"Help!" Dean shouted, running to the door and flinging it open, "Help! We need someone! Quick!" He yelled, he could hear his Dad talking to Sam,

"Sammy, please, wake up, come back, I'm sorry!" He would be when Dean was through with him. Suddenly a nurse and a doctor flew into the room. Dean was in a haze of panic, he barely heard anything the pair said, as they shouted instructions to each other. But finally they slowed down, and began checking him over. John Winchester heaved himself out of the wheel chair,

"Is he ok? Is he alright?" he asked the doctor, who smiled tiredly,

"He should be ok, but he needs to stay calm, he's in a very weak state right now." The doctor and nurse left, shutting the door behind them. Dean glared at his Dad,

"Don't look at me like that." His Dad ordered, Dean walked round the bed to stand face to face with his father,

"I told you to stop it, but you didn't listen!" Dean ground out, his hands itching to hit his own father. John Winchester became equally angry, equally quickly,

"We had _one_ chance, Dean! _One chance_ to kill that thing! Who knows when we'll get another one! If Sam had done what I ordered-" but he didn't get to finish because Dean grabbed his shirt in both hands and slammed him up against the wall. John Winchester winced in pain but otherwise didn't show any emotion to his seething oldest son,

"To HELL with your orders! Is this because he left? Is this some kind of punishment for him?"

"It's about killing that demon, whatever it takes!"

"Even if it costs you your life?" Dean said slowly releasing his father,

"Hunting this demon _is_ my life, Dean. When it's gone I have nothing to live for anyway…"

"Nothing to live for, huh?" Dean muttered, his heart beating at fifty times a second. John Winchester's face paled slightly at what he had said to his own son. Dean rubbed his forehead tiredly, not looking at his father,

"Well, then I guess my job is to look after your other son for you, and you may be willing to let yourself get killed, but I will_ not_ let you make Sammy responsible, he can't take it, Dad! He just lost Jess, and now you think he can take losing you? And for him to be responsible for that? If it doesn't kill him, it'll ruin his life forever!" John Winchester slumped into the wheelchair tiredly.

"I didn't mean that, Dean." He said weakly, "I just…" John Winchester, showing an unusual sign of weakness, put his head in his hands. Dean too let out a long breath and sat on the hospital ward floor his head leaning back on Sam's bed.

"He's not like us, Dad," Dean murmured, "He's too much like mom." Dean glanced at his father, who still had his head in his hands,

"I can see her in him. In everything he does, everything he says…" John Winchester muttered. Dean glanced at his father and saw a tear coursing down his cheek. "It's what keeps me going. Keeps me driving to find this son of a bitch and waste it."

"You can't fix our family Dad, not by killing the demon, but you _can_ break it more." Dean said, surprised at his own incite, Sam's intelligence was rubbing off on him, that was something he would have said.

"But, if Sam had just-"

"Don't start Dad! Put yourself in his position, would you have been able to pull the trigger on one of us? And don't say yes, or I swear I'll kick your ass right now." His Dad smiled slightly,

"When did you get so wise, Dean?"

"Since I had to take care of my little brother."

"He was a little upset by Jessica, right?"

"Yeah. A little messed up." Dean answered. John Winchester looked back down at the floor and wiped his tired eyes,

"I'm sorry Dean. For not being there more. For trying to force you and Sam to shoot."

"It's not me you should be spilling your heart out to." Dean said quietly, looking pointedly at his unconscious brother. His Dad nodded, "I'm going to get some coffee," Dean said, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, "Want anything?" John Winchester shook his head, staring at his unconscious son. Dean nodded and sighed, "Call me if he wakes, ok?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer as he strode out of the room, letting the door click shut gently behind him.

Dean had just left the cafeteria when his mobile began vibrating in his pocket, he pulled it out with his free hand and answered his Dad's call,

"Dean? He just woke up."

"On my way." Dean said immediately, hanging up and shoving his cell phone back in his pocket before a passing nurse could begin complaining. Dean jogged up the stairs, grateful the coffee had a lid on it. He opened the door to Sam's room and was greeted with a welcoming sight. His Dad was leaning over Sam, hugging him, and Sam was hugging him back. Dean refrained from jumping over and joining in, and decided on a witty comment instead,

"Who are you and what have you done with my Dad?" Well, a moderately witty response, he hadn't slept in hours. John Winchester broke apart from his youngest son and smiled at his oldest. As he moved out of the way, Dean saw his younger brother, tears on his tired, bruised face, but he was smiling. Dean grinned back at him as he moved into the room, shutting the door behind him,

"Hey Sammy, see you decided to join the land of the living?" Sam grinned back,

"Like I'd let you have all the fun?" Dean walked over and clapped a hand on his little brother's shoulder,

"You okay, dude?" Sam nodded, smiling,

"If I'm not I will be, us Winchesters, we're made of pretty strong stuff." Dean and his Dad smiled at Sam,

"From now on Boys, we work together, we look out for each other, I'll stop being such a jerk, if you guys help me out a bit with this, okay?"

"Yes sir," Answered Sam and Dean simultaneously. Things would be okay, thought the oldest son, they'd get the demon, it'd take a while, but they'd get there eventually, and all in one piece too.


End file.
